


high kicks and heartstrings

by scriptmanip



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pre-Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Useless Peggy, cheeky!Angie, post season one, tortured!Peggy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:39:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scriptmanip/pseuds/scriptmanip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things are worse than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	high kicks and heartstrings

**Author's Note:**

> I gave myself an hour to write something. The following is the haphazard result. Still getting my Cartinelli sea legs.

Things are worse than ever.

Thompson has taken over as Chief of the SSR, Dooley an untimely loss to their organisation.

Peggy is still placing lunch orders.

The persistent threats of HYDRA and Leviathan continue to evade the agency.

The price of milk is on the rise.

And Howard is indebted to her for the next seven lifetimes which somehow makes him even more insufferable than usual.

Still, the absolute worst of it hits Peggy as she shuffles into the kitchen--bleary eyed and half asleep--after a late night of tactical training:

Angie in a simple black leotard, hunched inelegantly over the breakfast counter, a crumpled script set beside her cup of lukewarm coffee, and her feet fidgeting along the kitchen tiles.

It's terribly devastating.

Peggy draws up short, fully awake now _thank you very much_ , and clenches her fists helplessly to the silken material of her dressing gown because the room suddenly evaporates into the size and shape of Angie's legs.

Regaining only a fraction of her composure, Peggy clears her throat and peels her wandering eyes away from her flatmate, her _friend_ , before--

Before what, Peggy is unsure. And she doesn't fancy operating in uncertainties.

"Oh, heya, English," Angie greets her, the sleeves of her thin, grey sweater bunching along her forearms. "Geez, you really know how to sneak up on a girl."

 _The same could be said of you_ , Peggy thinks before smiling quickly and exhaling all the air from the room she's been holding.

"Trick of the trade," Peggy hums quietly, making a cautious approach towards the breakfast counter where Angie has left the pot of coffee.

Angie laughs then where she's been watching Peggy from over her shoulder, holding her chin in her hand as if posing for a bloody photographer, and Peggy grips menacingly to the handle of the coffee pot so as not to let the whole thing come crashing onto the floor.

With a quick, hardly innocent--though Peggy prays it's come off as such--flick of her eyes down Angie's lithe frame, Peggy surmises the obvious. "Rehearsals begin today then?"

Angie groans dramatically. Peggy winces.

"Four days a week. Plus I ain't giving up my shifts at the diner any time soon. And I'm no slouch to the dance steps, but I'm not exactly Ann Miller either so I'll have to put in extra practice outside of rehearsals too." Angie ceases to slouch onto her elbows and stands to place both hands on her hips. "Gonna be feelin' like rubber from top to tail by the end of it."

"I'm sure you'll be wonderful," Peggy smiles.

"Hope you don't mind having a roommate stinkin' of stage sweat and bacon grease is all I'm sayin'."

Peggy swallows, watching as Angie stretches both arms above her head.

"I've been cramped in trenches all along the Western Front with a man called Dum Dum. I think I'll manage." Peggy's smile broadens at Angie's bright laughter, though her stomach feels like it's churning bits of rock.

"Glad to know you're prepared to rank me just slightly above a pack of smelly soldiers," Angie teases.

Peggy wishes to correct Angie's assumptions but falls short--not able to find the words for how she might _actually_ rank Angie in the grand scheme of things, and the result is an embarrassing flutter of choked air to which Angie merely winks and shakes her head, fresh curls bobbing across her shoulder caps.

"Don't hurt yourself there, English."

Angie pats Peggy's bicep just twice before snatching up her script and heading for the front door, the heat from her touch lingering on Peggy's skin. In her bones.

"You can tell me just how enamoured you are in exactly eight hours when I'm crashing onto the nearest sofa, nothin' but a sweaty mess of sore muscles."

Angie's taunting sing-song is followed by the front door clicking shut, leaving Peggy alone in the unsettling quiet of the kitchen. She worries her lip, scowling at the light pink tinge Angie has left on her abandoned coffee cup.

The sound of the door reopening startles Peggy only momentarily when she realises Angie--a girl who would forget her left foot were it not attached at the ankle--must have left behind her coat or scarf or keys to the apartment. 

 _Seize the day_ , Peggy thinks, heading briskly towards the entryway. 

"Angie? You know, I do think of you quite highly ... in comparison to others, that is, and the unfair truth of it, darling, is that--"

Angie is not at the door.

Exclamations of: ' _Mr. Jarvis! What on earth?_ ' and ' _Oh, Ms. Carter, I'm terribly sorry!_ ' overlay one another to form a confused jumble of flustered words.

Embarrassed heat remains on her cheeks just long enough to register how Mr. Jarvis seems exponentially more uncomfortable at encountering Peggy as of yet undressed for the day. 

"I do sincerely apologise, it's only that I've just seen Miss Martinelli on her way out, and she encouraged me to let myself in to deliver, uh, these." Jarvis meekly holds up a basket of baked goods he's no doubt made himself. "I assumed you'd already gone for the day."

Jarvis is keenly burning holes in the floorboards to avoid looking directly at her.

Peggy rolls her eyes. "It's only a dressing gown, Mr. Jarvis. I don't believe you'll go blind."

"No--no, of course not," he stammers. 

Peggy sighs. "Come on then, I'll make us some tea." 

Peggy returns to the kitchen, her hand hovering above Angie's cup of coffee and very nearly succumbing to an urge to rub her thumb along the edge where Angie's mouth once was, before depositing the cup into the sink and reaching to fill the kettle. 

Jarvis lingers near the doorway until Peggy beckons him to the kitchen table with a nod where he sets his basket of mufins and tea cakes at its centre. 

"If I may," he begins, again avoiding Peggy's eye in favour of smoothing a crease in the table linen. "I, too, find Miss Martinelli to be, well, quite good company. Rather lovely, in fact."

"Yes," Peggy agrees through a quiet sigh that's instantly drowned out by the whistling kettle. "Quite."  


End file.
